


The Sweetest Things Can Hurt Us the Most

by Nour386



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Minor Injuries, Stanley "Banjomin" McGucket, YOU DID THIS, de-aged Stan, slight references to abuse, why work on my own stuff when I can ruin other people's work?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 20:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10727142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nour386/pseuds/Nour386
Summary: Everybody makes mistakes, but sometimes you've got to make it obvious to the traumatised child that you're caring for that mistakes aren't the end of the world.





	The Sweetest Things Can Hurt Us the Most

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeidiMelone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeidiMelone/gifts).



> This was inspired by [ The Last Speecher's ](http://thelastspeecher.tumblr.com/) [Stanley Banjomin McGucket Au](http://thelastspeecher.tumblr.com/tagged/Banjomin-Stanley-McGucket-AU). Where-in, by some magical Axolotl (I'm not even kidding) Stan is turned into a 5 year-old and has to be raised by the McGucket family. 
> 
> A big thanks to my Beta reader [ BLackNightmareDragon ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackNightmareDragon/pseuds/BlackNightmareDragon) for helping me with this!

There was a loud crash and a scream.

 

 _Fuck_ Stanley thought as he struggled to get up, his arms not used to their new size. _Dammit I fucked up_ , he screamed in his mind as he realised that the pain from having hot chocolate spill onto him contributed to that struggle. But he didn’t have time to waste; he needed to get up before someone heard. Thankfully he hadn’t gotten any of his drink on his legs when he dropped it.

 

“ _Just gotta clean up this mess ‘fore Ma or Pa find out,_ ” he whispered to himself, making his way across the kitchen. “ _Stupid short arms_ ” he cursed to himself as he tried and failed to reach for the sponge by the sink.

 

Stan quickly made his way back to the kitchen table, stepping in the puddle of chocolate in the process. Reaching for the chair he had been sitting in before he dropped his mug. Only to realise that there was an entire side of chairs nearer to the sink. “ _What’s the matter with you?_ ” he said, ignoring the pain in his hand as he tried to pull at the chair.

 

It wouldn’t budge. “ _C’mon! What’s the matter with you?_ ”His mind screamed as he struggled to move the chair from its place. “I _t’s gotta be stuck on a floor board or something._ ” His heart started to pace at how much time he was wasting. _If ya can’t pull ‘em then push!_ His mind cried as he pressed his shoulder onto the chair.

 

 _C’mon, they’ll kill you if they find out, just-_ Stan’s thoughts were interrupted by a sharp hiss of pain. He didn’t think his burn was that bad. _Okay so cleaning the mess can wait, I’ll just throw away the broken pieces of the mug._ Stan thought, picking himself up.

 

“Stanley, are you alright?” Sally McGucket called from down the hall, Stan only then realised that her sewing machine wasn’t running. The sound of her footsteps seemed to echo throughout the house.

 

_Shit she heard_

 

“’M f-fi-ne,” he croaked out between sobs he didn’t realise he had been holding back.

 

She didn’t reply. Instead Stan heard her nearing footsteps. Images of angry screams, rough hands and red faces all flashed into his mind as he tried to crawl away from the door to the hall. “I-i’m sorry” he whispered, each nearing thump bringing his heart further and further up his throat.

 

 _“Gotta hide,”_ Stanley’s eyes scanned for a possible hiding place, locking with the cupboard under the sink.

 

Thump Thump thump

 

He crawled as best as he could, wincing each time his hand touched the floor.

Thump thump thump

He could feel the hot chocolate staining his shorts as he crawled through the mess he had made.

 

Thump thump thu-

 

The sound of her footsteps stopping made Stanley turn over, raising his arms defensively, cutting his hand on a shard of the mug he had knocked over. The pain of his already tender hand being split open was too much for the young Stanley, instantly he dropped his arms and let out a loud wail.

 

Sally stood at the doorway of the room, silent and watchful. She took a moment to observe the scene before her. A de-aged boy that lay bleeding in a puddle of the hot chocolate she set for him earlier, surrounded in what once was the mug that held the drink. Without wasting another second, Sally turned back and called for her two youngest children.

 

“Angie, Lute! C’me over ‘ere”

 

 _“Great, she’s calling ‘em over to laugh at me”_ the crying boy thought bitterly as he let out another sob.

 

“Ya hollered?” Lute asked, standing alongside his sister, behind his mother at the doorway.

 

“What happen’d here?” Angie asked, peering over her mother’s shoulder

 

 _Here is comes_ he thought, mentally bracing himself for the oncoming laughter.

 

“That don’t matter,” Sally said quickly, directing her daughter away, “Angie I need ya to go and get the bath ready, make sure the water’s cool.”

 

“Yes’m”

 

“An’ Lute I need ya ta clean up the kitchen after I take Stanley out,” She said, turning to her son.

“Roger,” Lute replied, giving a curt nod.

 

 _Any minute now_ Stanley whimpered as he heard two pairs of feet make their way into the room.

 

“Yeesh, this is a right mess,” Lute said, standing back as Sally slowly approached the crying boy.

 

“You weren’t much better when you were his age,” Sally shot back, kneeling down next to the boy, “Stanley, we’re gonna getcha all cleaned up ya hear?” When given no response, Sally reached forward, her hand gently holding the boy’s shoulder.

 

He flinched at her touch, his sobs filled the room as he all but screamed apology after apology for his mistake. How he didn’t mean to break her mug, how he didn’t mean to make a mess. That if she gave him a chance he’d clean it up, that she didn’t need to worry. Sally carefully picked up the boy and headed to the bathroom; with each step she gently countered each of his cries for mercy with assurance of how unnecessary they were.

 

“It's fine,” she whispered, gently rubbing the boy’s back as he cried into her shoulder, “you’re safe now.”

 

This act seemed to only worsen his sobbing as he cried harder into her shoulder. His small hands holding onto her as tightly as they could while his mouth wailed into the fabric of her shirt. Sally could feel not just her shoulder dampening, but also a small part of her back, where Stanley was holding onto for dear life.

 

She entered the bathroom and gentle let the boy down.

“Now Stanley, we need to take off yer dirty clothes off an’ hop in the tub fer me.” She said in a soothing voice, her hands on his shoulders. He nodded numbly and slowly reached to take off his shirt, hissing as his cut brushed against the fabric of his shirt.

 

“Angie,” Sally said, just as the Gucket in question was making her exit, “could ya go down and  get me the burn medicine?”

 

“Sure ma,” Angie replied, tearing her gaze from the young boy.

 

“And could ya make sure yer brother don’t need help with cleanin’ up the kitchen.” Sally said, smiling at Angie’s groaned response.

 

“Thank you kindly,” Sally said, closing the door behind her daughter.

 

Now that they were alone, Sally turned to the boy who was now sitting in the bathtub, the water easily reaching up to his chest. He sniffled occasionally; his left shoulder and arm were a bright pink that was starting to darken quickly. The water near his right hand looked like it was filled with red smoke.

 

Sally knelt down, becoming almost eye level with the boy, her face still holding as gentle a smile as she could; despite this Stanley still froze up when she neared.

 

“Is the water good?” she asked, reaching into the cupboard under the sink.

 

“It’s fine.” he stuttered out, not looking up.

 

“Well, that’s good,” Sally said sweetly, pulling out a rubber duck and a plastic boat. “ya gave me a right fright earlier,” She said adding the toys into the water with an audible splash.

 

Stanley flinched as the water landed on his arm.

 

“ya need to put yer burn in the water darlin’” Sally urged, “otherwise it’ll get a much worse if ya don’t.”

 

“Aren’t ya mad?” Stanley finally asked after a beat.

 

“Pardon?” Sally said,

 

“I broke yer mug and made a mess of yer kitchen,” Stanley said, finally look up, tears starting to form at the corners of his eyes again.

 

“Stanley, why would I be upset?” Sally said, “It was just a mug, we could always get another.”

 

“bu-“ Stanley began.

 

“yer safety is much more important to me than some silly old mug Stanley,” Sally repeated, putting her arm onto the boy’s good shoulder.

 

“So, yer not mad?” Stanley asked in disbelief, wiping his tears with his arm, only getting them wetter in the process.

 

“I’m more concerned that ya didn’t come to one of us for help” Sally said, pouring water over the boy’s red shoulder.

 

“I was scared,” Stanley said, gently pushing the rubber duck.

“Well, from now on don’t be. “Sally said, catching the boy’s eye, “We’re yer fam’ly now. And ya ain’t supposed to be ‘fraid of yer fam’ly.”

 

Stanley didn’t look convinced; his eyes looked into Sally’s with confusion.

 

“Let’s not worry about that fer now,” Sally said, splashing the little boy, “how’s about we get yer cut bandaged up and then we fix ya a new cup of hot chocolate. That sound good?”

 

 * * * * * * * * *

 

Stanley giggled at the splash and retaliated with one of his own, nodding eagerly at Sally’s suggestion. After the pair of them were decently soaked from the bath, Sally pulled out a big fluffy towel and wrapped Stanley up in it. The boy sat cheerfully on the toilet as she fished out a first aid kit for his hand, his tears form earlier now long forgotten.

“Why did it burn so bad when ya rubbed that stuff on my hand?” Stanley asked, as Sally finished making his drink.

 

“It ‘cause it’s killin’ all the bacteria in and around yer cut,” Sally replied, setting two mugs onto the table as she took a seat, “That an’ the skin in yer cut is real sensitive.”

 

Stanley looked at Sally, processing what she had said, before nodding knowingly. “Makes sense,”

 

“Oh goodness,” Sally said suddenly, standing up, “I forgot the marshmallows.”

 

“You don’t have to trouble yer-“ Stanley began, stopping himself when he caught sight of Sally’s cheerful smile.

 

“It ain’t no trouble Stanley,” She said, grabbing bag from the high shelf, “now how many do ya want?”

 

“Three please.” Stanley said.

 

“Not too many and not too little, I like the way you think.” Sally said, a smile spreading across her face as Stanley beamed at her comment.

 

Sally walked over to her seat next to the five year-old, her hip nudging the back of a chair. However, this action caused her foot to get caught on the chair leg; which made her drop the bag of marshmallows onto the floor. The bag was clipped closed, which saved her the trouble of cleaning up that mess, which only left Sally with one question.

 

“You okay?” Stanley asked, getting off of his chair.

 

“’M alright sweet pea,” Sally replied, getting up onto all fours, “I just tripped over the chair here.”

 

“Why’d it trip ya over?” Stanley asked, picking up the bag of marshmallows.

 

“That’s why ‘m still down here,” Sally clarified, her eyes scanning the chair to see what caused her fall. And after about half a minute, Sally found her answer. Two of the legs had gotten caught in a pair of obnoxiously placed knots in the floor boards. With a huff Sally picked herself up.

 

“Didja find out what happened?” Stanley asked innocently, taking his seat.

 

“Yeah, I did,” Sally said with a sigh, “looks like Fidldeford has been skipping out on his chores.”

 

“He has?” Stanley asked looking up at Sally, letting her take the bag form his small hands.

 

“Let’s not worry about that,” Sally replied, opening the bag and taking out several marshmallows. “For now-“

 

“Hot Chocolate!” Stanley cheered.

 

“Hot chocolate indeed.” Sally agreed, lightly poking the young boy’s nose.

 

 * * * * * * * * *

 

Later that afternoon, Stanley sat in the sewing room playing with his blocks as Sally worked on a tear in Angie’s shirt. The sewing machine’s noises filled the room, it wasn’t overwhelming or deafening, more soothing as it held a steady rhythm every time Sally pressed down on the pedal. After a few minutes, Sally lifted her work up to take a good look at how the repair was going. She nodded with approval as she put the shirt to the side. She was about to start on the hole in lute’s trousers when she felt a tug by her side.

 

Turning her head, Sally saw that Stanley was standing next to her. Smiling sweetly, she picked up the young boy and sat him down on her lap.

 

“What’s the matter sweet pea?” she asked.

 

Before he said anything, the little boy jumped from her lap and wrapped his arms around her shoulders in a tight hug; or alternatively, as tight of a hug a five year-old is able to muster. “Thanks for helping me.” He said, in an almost inaudible whisper.

 

“Think nothing of it, you’re my child now. Helpin’ ya out is my job now.” Sally said with a smile.

 

“And from now on, don’t you ever be afraid to ask for me or any of my little Guckling’s help. You understand?” She added.

 

“Yeah” Stanley nodded, hugging her tighter. “Thank you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This would take place at around when Stanley was losing his memories of being with the Pines, hence him not specifically remembering Filbrick, but he like recall how things went down when he messed up.


End file.
